


Dishonored Drabbles

by Shinzu



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18741721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinzu/pseuds/Shinzu
Summary: Either about my OCs or the canon characters. Typical in-world violence and what not.





	Dishonored Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm a very shy person and don't normally post my stuff but I figured I'd throw them up here to at least have a place to collect them. 
> 
> I mostly write about an original character named Darrius.

Darrius wrapped his arms around his legs, looking at all the people walking by in the city. It had only been a few weeks since he was out there, but ever so slowly people were starting to return to the city and apartments were being rebuilt and, if he was remembering right, Emily had finally been returned to the throne. Of everything that had happened, that was probably the happiest and best thing he’d heard.

He couldn’t remember, but two or three or maybe even four weeks ago he had walked in on Havelock, Pendelton, and Martin poisoning the royal protector. He wanted to see what was up when everyone rushed up the stairs, but in doing so, Havelock had locked him in a chest in his father’s room. Darrius wanted so much to believe that Wallace was still alive right now, because maybe he’d have someone to live with, but when the guards stormed the pub, found him, and locked him up with a guard, he’d tried to make a break for it. He ran as fast as he could and as far as he could, hoping to make it back to the manor, but he was lost. So terribly lost.

At the start, Darrius had hope that things could go back to the way they used to be, everyone safe and sound. He lifted his head when he heard the familiar sound of the loud speaker announcements and kept running when he’d heard the announcement that Farley Havelock was being held at Coldridge Prison and that Treavor Pendelton and Teague Martin were found dead. For a moment his blood ran cold. His dad _and_ caretaker were dead and his mom was nowhere to be found and he had no way to get to the Golden Cat to even figure out where she might be. Hell, he didn’t even know where he was right now.

It was then that he sat down where he was, spending day after day watching the people pass by with his arms wrapped around his knees. Occasionally someone would offer him an apple, which he would accept, but the reality was that he really thought he was going to die here, on this little step on the side of a street where no one would give him the time of day. Something felt wrong, like he was too weak too move, too weak to keep his eyes open. His skin looked pale, he couldn’t remember when he last tried to eat, and did it really matter? He had no one to go back to. Emily was empress now, she didn’t have time for a bastard wannabe noble like him.

Darrius felt his eyes closing. The sun was starting to rise again and in one of his few times of venturing outside his one little section of street he’d managed to find a mostly clean blanket that he then stole. It was nice to just lay down bundled up in wool, His dad told him that if he stayed too long out in the city, he was going to get the plague. Somewhere deep in his heart, he knew that this is what was coming, and when he reached up to wipe the tears from his face his blood turned to ice: his eyes were bleeding. A guard would come for him, probably. Not many guards came around this area of town he realized, possibly because, if he was remembering right and listening right, it was so close to quarantine.

He closed his eyes. Right now, there was nothing he could do. He didn’t have the energy to sit up, so laying down and dying seemed the best bet. At least maybe if there was an afterlife he’d see his family again?

Yawning, he got comfortable in his blanket. People started whispering, but he figured it was him being completely delirious.

“Hey, didn’t the Empress say she’s looking for a kid with red hair?”

“Hm...yeah. Don’t see red hair in Gristol very often.”

A huff. “Why would he be so far out here?”

“You’re asking me! Why don’t you go ask him yourself? Or are the bleeding eyes too scary?”

“Oh shut up and go get a guard. They officially released a cure yesterday, didn’t you hear?”

Maybe it was because he didn’t take himself for too smart, but he didn’t buy that. No one could cure the plague, could they? Darrius let himself quietly drift off to sleep, accepting his fate, until he was suddenly jostled. Two big strong arms hoisted him into the air, wrapping him safely in his blanket. It wasn’t anyone he knew, probably, and opening his eyes for once proved it. 

City watch. The man wasn’t looking at him, but he did break out into a run. He shouted something, and some more people showed up, and after what felt like a buzzing, confusing eternity he was shifted around and placed into the arms of someone else. 

“Come on Darrius, please open your mouth. You have to drink this.” Desperation. The voice sounded so familiar.

As soon as the bitter, foul-tasting liquid hit his tongue he started sputtering and coughing and squirmed around. If he wasn’t awake before, he sure was now. “No!” he cried. He pushed against the man holding him but he was too weak to be of any use.

“He doesn’t drink bad tasting stuff! You have to put it in juice.”

Someone snorted. Someone who sounded kinda old and very grumpy. “He’s a Pendelton alright. And it looks like he hasn’t eaten in a month. Lay him down.”

“Sure, but let me give him the elixir.” 

“C-Corvo?” Darrius whispered. He didn’t know if anyone could hear him, but it did go silent.

Darrius was placed into the most comfortable bed he’d ever been in. Strong arms propped him up and something so sweet was poured into his mouth and you know what? It didn’t taste bad. Too much of it though felt very bad, though at the same time, something felt different. It felt almost _good_, despite being _so bad_. 

“Yeah, it’s me Darrius.”

The girl who spoke first hopped up onto the bed and laid beside him. “I’m so glad they found you. Pierro and Sokolov found a cure!” A soft cloth was pressed to his eyes. “You’ll be okay. You were missing for almost a month and a half.”

“Emily, let him rest. He’ll okay after this.” 

“But Corvo-”

They whispered frantically back and forth until the old grumpy man butted in. It became quiet in the room and it was so quiet that Darrius fell asleep quickly. He dreamed of many wild and bizarre things and of colors he was sure didn’t exist but he didn’t have the energy in him to do anything else. When he awoke he had no idea how much time had passed and it took even longer for him to open his eyes.

When he did, all he saw was black. But he slowly, ever so slowly, brought his hand to his face and pulled the cloth that Emily had placed there. 

He was in the tower, that’s for sure. Or wherever the Empress lived. He could only see the ceiling, intricately decorated and carved with the finest wood and paint and lighting. No lights were on except for a small candle beside him and he turned his head as far as he could, a sleeping figure just coming into view. The blankets around him felt so heavy.

“Corvo? Emily?” Darrius whispered. He started tearing up. Panic rose in his chest and he pressed his hand to his tears, this time seeing clear water when the last time he was awake, he’d been crying blood. The smallest whine escaped his mouth before he started sobbing.

Two arms wrapped around him. They were small, definitely not the man’s. But he knew immediately that this was Emily, and shortly after Corvo pulled him into a hug as well.


End file.
